A Tiger's Advocate
by tinks-belle85
Summary: Always a step ahead, Roland Tembo has struck again, and this time on Robert Muldoon's preserve. Can Muldoon put an end to it or will the poacher walk free?
1. Murder in the Bush

**Disclaimer: **Although I use the charactersfrom the JP universe, I do not own them or anything else to do with Jurassic Park.**

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**Dedication:**

_Sassy Lil Scorpio_- I got the inspiration from our chats and had to dedicate this to you. You gave me ideas, listened to mine and encouraged me to write this. Minors are the best! Thanks so much.

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Prologue:

**Murder in the Bush**

The hot African sun shone down onto a group of people in the light brown grass of the savannah. A large carcass lay in the midst of them as the group slowly walked around, examining every inch of the area.

One man in particular scanned the nearby grass, his eyes searching for any clues that may be of use in the investigation.

"Charlie, over here" the man called. He was clothed in khaki shorts, heavy boots, a tan hat, and a button-up shirt with the top two buttons left open. A gun was strapped across his shoulder.

Charlie, one of the men leaning over the dead animal, turned in the direction of the voice and asked, "you find anything?"

"Yes," was the reply. "I did find something. Take a look at this."

Walking over, Charlie saw something in the man's hand. It was a bullet. "Well well, what have we here Muldoon?"

"Looks like this was left behind." Muldoon handed the bullet to Charlie who recognized it and knew instantly what type of gun they were dealing with.

"A double-barreled .600 Nitro Express." He spoke the name of that particular gun in a whisper, obviously impressed. This bullet belongs to a gun of many a hunting story…must be a beaut. Those things are worth tens of thousands nowadays. The bullet's quite large. Whoever left this was pretty careless." .

"I wouldn't say so. Judging by the looks of this, he's no beginner. I'd say this bullet was purposely left behind."

"You mean like a calling card?" Charlie looked surprised as he examined the object in his hands. "Why? This guy looking to get caught?"

"No" Muldoon stated flatly. His face became serious, almost angry, as he talked. "It's his way of showing off. He believes we'll never get him."

"Pretty cocky if you ask me." Charlie laughed, throwing the bullet in the air and catching if in the opposite hand. "We'll get 'im though."

"Robert" called another from the group near the body just as Muldoon was about to reply to Charlie's remark. "Come over here. We have to do something."

Muldoon and Charlie carefully stepped over to the dead animal. It was an elephant, killed the night before. A bloody hole, just beyond the ear, was visible as the body lay on its side on the dry, dusty earth. The thick, gray skin covering his head was spattered with blood. The pink mouth was now dry, and his soft eyes were lifeless. The elephant was a male, a bull, and the beautiful white tusks that once arched gracefully from the mouth were now missing, sawed off clearly, leaving only stumps behind.

"Whoever did this sure knew what he was doing." The man speaking was walking slowly around to the head, explaining the kill to anyone who was listening. He was the same man who called Muldoon. Looking truly disgusted by the sight before him, the man slowly shook his head. "That shot was perfect, right to the brain. Poor thing didn't know what hit him."

There had been many stories of hunter's shooting elephants only to have them rise again for an attack. The aim had not been true, unfortunately for the hunter. This did not take place here; that was certain. From the looks of the surrounding area, the poacher was very close to the animal. The gun in question only had a range of about forty yards or less, not a safe range for killing an elephant. The culprit was a professional; able to come dangerously close to his victims in order to bring them down and succeed.

"What are we going to do about this?" Charlie asked, turning to Muldoon for answers. "It needs to be reported soon, and whoever did this has to be found."

"Easier said than done," Muldoon replied. He took the bullet away from Charlie and held it up in the sunlight. His eyes narrowed, showing anger, determination, and frustration. "He's probably miles away by now."

"You got an idea who it is Robert?" Charlie asked.

"I do Charlie. I know exactly who it is. Do you remember that gun you mentioned? The one that this bullet belongs to?"

"Yeah, the elephant gun."

"That's right. The double-barreled .600 Nitro Express is legendary in the world of hunting. There's only one man I know that still owns one…and uses it."

That particular gun was the most powerful elephant gun around years ago, until more high powered weaponry was made available. 'Nitro Express' refers to nonsmoking cartridges that replaced the black powdered ones, leading to a better shot as the bullet was also broadened. The bullets were four inches long, three-quarters of an inch in diameter, and able to penetrate an elephant's thick skull. The weapon was a favorite now among the rich although not at all suitable for an inexperienced hunter.

Muldoon looked at the wound on the animal before him. "It's him alright."


	2. The Trophy Room

Thanks to Sassy Lil Scorpio and BrachioIngen for the reviews. You guys are the best!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Jurassic Park including Robert Muldoon, Roland Tembo, or Ajay Sidhu. I only own Charlie and a few others who come along. And as for the description of Roland's gun, that came from _The Lost World_ script.

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Chapter 2

**The Trophy Room**

Roland Tembo sat in a large, heavily decorated room examining a new addition to his collection. His neatly groomed appearance endowed him with an air of elegance that, based on his occupation, he did not deserve. Neatly pressed pants were topped off with a white button-up shirt, and on his feet were brown leather shoes, the most handsome that could be made. His small eyeglasses sat at the tip of his broad nose as he studied the specimen before him.

A beautiful new ivory tusk lay on the desk. Weighing nearly one hundred pounds, a rare find in the world today, the tusk could fetch a nice profit if the right person should come along although the ivory trade was not thriving since the crackdown on poachers had become stronger in recent years.

The tusk on the top of the desk would not bring any price for Roland; it was not for sale. Having acquired a sizeable bank account over the years, not to mention the family wealth, he needed nothing from the black market to help him financially. No, the tusk was a special trophy, and he had many more to keep it company.

The trophy room where he sat was a deep red with white trim. The walls appeared to be bleeding from the dead animals scattered along the four walls. In the middle of the room stood a large, wooden desk made of rich mahogany with golden fixtures. In it, he held important papers, pictures, and other trinkets that were not for others to see.

On the walls, the pride of Tembo's home, hung the heads of his many victims, mounted onto wooden plaques. There were samples of any species prized by a hunter that could be named; each one a prime example of the animal kingdom. There was a lion head, from his home of Africa, which he acquired at the age of twenty-three.

The heads of almost every deer imaginable littered the room; they were the most common, but not the most favored. A tiger skin carpeted the floor just in front of the desk where Roland sat. Its beautiful orange coat with the once vibrant black stripes was starting to fade a little from wear and tear, but in it one could see the remains of a magnificent creature.

Hanging on the wall behind Roland's desk and within arms reach, a beautiful elephant gun sat on a rack made of the same wood as the desk, surrounded by the trophies acquired by its power. The breach was silver with a small herd of bison carefully carved on it. The stock was rosewood and at the end, the foresight was an ivory bead. The long barrels stretched out far beyond the gun rack. There was not a scratch on the weapon. Much care and attention to detail went into the protection of his gun, and as a result, the weapon was in prime condition.

Small ivory carvings brightened a large bookshelf on the opposite wall near the door. Roland carved them himself out of the tusks of mighty elephants much like the tusk he was looking over now. Each carving showed care and detail in the small curves of the animals' bodies making them incredibly lifelike for such a tiny work surface.

Also on display were photographs of the many hunts he took part in throughout his life dating back decades to when he and his father, the previous owner of his elephant gun, would strike out into the bush, looking for some new and exciting encounter. One picture in particular stood out among the others. An old black and white photo of a twenty-three year old Roland and his father standing over the very same lion whose head was now on display in that very trophy room.

Faint footsteps were heard in the hall just beyond the door. Although barely perceptible, the sound was there. Roland quickly looked up. He was blessed with excellent hearing, a trait useful in hunting.

He scanned the doorway as a shadow formed at the bottom, blocking the light from entering. His muscles tense, Roland cast a swift glance at his beloved elephant gun above him, making sure the weapon was within his grasp and turned back to the door.

Eyes focused on the movement from outside the trophy room, Roland quietly took hold of the tusk and, with some effort, cautiously placed it under the desk where it would not be noticed. The immense object hardly fit, but he managed to completely conceal it. Anyone could be behind the door. How he found his way into Roland's home was a mystery, but, if the person knew about or was looking for the poacher, the heavy ivory would be a dead give away.

There was a light cough.

Roland smiled, breathing a shallow sigh of relief, and mentally kicked himself for not realizing sooner.

"Come in Ajay" he said, letting the man behind the door know his cover was blown.

The door opened. "Care to explain how you knew it was me, Roland?"

"How many years have you known me Ajay? And you still believe you can slip up on me? What do you take me for?"

Roland laughed and stood up, approaching his old friend.

Ajay Sidhu was a short, thin man born on the coast of Africa. His parents came from East India, and he carried the accent. Ajay wore a pair of dark green shorts, a light colored t-shirt, and large eyeglasses. A backpack clung to his shoulders. His skin was dark in color, and his face was intelligent as he smiled and shook the hand of Roland, his closest friend.

"Besides," Roland continued, "I suspect you're losing your touch old man. Tell me, do you always make such a racket when hunting as you did here? I'm surprised you have one trophy to your name."

"Merely a cold" Ajay replied.

Roland smirked.

Slightly offended although he knew Roland meant nothing by his comments, Ajay walked towards the back of the room and took a seat in the small chair situated in front of Roland's desk that he claimed as his own during visits. He hated when his hunting skills were questioned, even in jest. Ajay was unsurpassed in his tracking abilities, and he knew as much. Even Roland Tembo was no match for Ajay in the bush.

Of course, as years went by, Ajay found himself having a few slip-ups, certain times when he had been wrong about the whereabouts of an animal or a person. Though difficult, he was always successful in surprising Roland, and today's blunder, a cough he could have easily held in, annoyed the clever hunter in Ajay. He would never admit to ever so slightly 'losing his touch', although in his mind, it troubled him greatly.

"So," Roland said, "What is it that brings you here again, Ajay? You left only yesterday. I would have thought you'd be tired of me by now."

"Well Roland," Ajay began, "I thought you'd like to have a look at this."

From his backpack, Ajay pulled a bundle, bound together with a rubber band.

"A newspaper, Ajay? You've wasted your time. I've had my morning coffee and paper."

Ajay shook his head and grinned. "This is not Mombassa's paper Roland. This newspaper happens to be from Nairobi."

"Is it now?" Roland's interest in the paper increased. During the past few days, Roland had become quite interested in news from Nairobi.

He took the paper as Ajay handed it across the desk and scanned the front page. There, near the top, a familiar picture was shown.

A black and white photograph of the lifeless body of an elephant lying in the grass of the savannah captured the headlines. In large, bold print, the words '**Poaching Problem Continues on Preserve**' ran across the top of the page.

"Poacher. Whoever thought of such an atrocious title?" Roland asked casually, not caring for an answer.

"Read further" Ajay instructed.

Roland read on. He took in each word. To see the phrases "no hard leads" or "no suspects" amused Roland, but also brought out his curiosity. "Park Warden Robert Muldoon says that he will not stop until he finds the persons responsible for the crime" the article went on to report.

After finishing the article, Roland gave the newspaper to Ajay and removed his eyewear. "So, what do you think Roland?" Ajay asked, putting away the paper.

"It's always nice to have your accomplishments put in print for others to see" Roland told him.

Ajay lifted an eyebrow and looked inquisitively at his friend. "But they made no mention of you in there."

"Ajay, everyone knows who that article is about" Roland said. "Everyone of importance in this matter."

"Even Muldoon?"

"Especially Robert Muldoon. He's been after me for years, you know that." Roland chuckled. "Yes, he's made it his life quest to track me down and get his claws into me like a lion does a gazelle. But, I've got news for him, the gazelle is quicker" Roland said with pride beaming from his eyes.

Roland bent over, and with both hands, reached under his desk. When he sat up once again, he revealed the large, ivory tusk he had hidden earlier. "Do you know what this is Ajay?"

"Yes," the man said in reply, "it's the tusk you acquired from the bull."

"No, it's not that at all" Roland said. He looked sternly at the Indian man. "They call me a poacher, and I may very well be, but when someone hears the word 'poacher' the first thing that comes to mind is hundreds of dead animals, and one ruthless killer who's out to destroy the rest of them."

Ajay shook his head to show that he understood.

"Now," Roland continued, "I could have easily gone after many animals. Why, there was a whole herd of elephant's nearby. Remember? We passed them in retreat. But, I didn't. No, I wasn't out for the thrill of the hunt; not this time. This time, I had another purpose. Robert Muldoon has been my nemesis for many years now. He's always on the lookout for some way to bring me down. To right the wrongs done to his preserve by my hands."

"He's a righteous man" Ajay added.

"Too much so for his own good and I'm going to show him that Roland Tembo can't be taken down so easily. That's why that bullet was left behind. I want him to know it's me, and he does. He knows I'm back." Roland traced a finger down the tusk. "This tusk is more than just another trophy. It's symbolic of one more victory over Robert Muldoon."

Ajay leaned forward in his chair and rested his arms on the desk, his eyes watching Roland. "What makes you so sure of your victory? You know very well that Muldoon isn't going to give up easily, if at all, until he's drained every resource. He has many, you know. And, he's always pursued you strongly in the past."

"And in the past, I've always persevered" Roland said. He leaned back and kicked his feet up onto the mahogany wood of the desk. "And as for resources, I'm not without my own."

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A/N- Hope you enjoyed. Longer chapters are to come. R&R. 


	3. The Hunt Begins

**The Hunt Begins**

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Disclaimer:

Sadly, I do not own the characters of Robert Muldoon, Roland Tembo, John Hammond (to come later in the story) or do I own anything else related to Jurassic Park.

To all of you who have reviewed during my long, long absence, I love you guys. Thanks so much. You were the reason I made myself sit down and update! There's not a lot of action at all in this chapter, but those are usually the chapters with the most important info in them, so enjoy.

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"What do you mean you can't do anything about it?'" Muldoon asked furiously.

He was standing in an office of a large police station in the center of Nairobi. Several officers paused when they heard the distinctive voice of Robert Muldoon coming through the opened door of Detective Jacob Sawyer's office. The sandy haired young man sat behind a large wooden desk, seemingly unruffled by the scene in front of him.

"I'm sorry Mr. Muldoon, but there's nothing we can do about this. It's not our place." Sawyer spoke calmly. He had spoken with Robert Muldoon many times regarding the Nairobi Game Preserve and knew it best not to upset the man. Having Muldoon angrier than he already was would do no good.

But Muldoon couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Not your place?" Muldoon slammed his hat down angrily on the Detective's desk. The young man flinched. "It's not your place to protect the interests of the people of Nairobi? My preserve has been dealt a hard blow and you say there's nothing you can do? I don't believe a damned word that's coming out of your mouth. You're supposed to be on my side."

"Now Robert, be reasonable. This department has more on our hands than we can take as it is. It's not that we aren't on your side, but that we can't handle it at the present time. You couldn't have caught me on a busier day." Sawyer felt similar to a manager at a department store trying to calm an irate customer's rants over a return policy. "Do you really think one or two elephants are cause for us to take immediate action? Try those government agencies designed for these types of problems. How about those non-profit organizations? They're a helpful bunch. You should find some support there."

"The government?" Muldoon asked, his voice carrying a cutting edge. "Bunch of bloody idiots they are." He sighed not in defeat, but in exhaustion.

Robert Muldoon was tired of running all over Nairobi. No one seemed to care, except for the animal rights activists, but people never listened to them. "Besides," he began again. "I've already asked for government support. They couldn't be bothered either. A few dead elephants aren't enough to turn their heads. Even if one leads to another, it'll take hundreds of animals to be killed before our government steps in to help. But there just aren't hundreds to spare." The population of elephants was sadly below desired levels. The same went for many other species native to his home. Poaching was not only a problem on his preserve, but everywhere.

"Well, I am sorry, but as I've said many times before, there's nothing that I can do at this point. I'm sorry for what has happened, and I know how it affects you and the ones who work under you, having been the chosen few who are supposed to protect these animals. I'm sure the offender, whoever he may be, will get what he deserves" Sawyer said in his unconcerned way. He leaned back in his office chair, twiddling his thumbs like a single person game of thumb wrestling. "The only way that we, the police, can do anything about what has happened is if you know, without doubt and with strong evidence, which person or group of people it is. Now, if you can't supply us with information we can use, I'll have to ask you to leave. It's a very busy day, and I do have others to meet with this afternoon." Sawyer took a yellow folder from in front of him and, closing it, placed it in his desk drawer.

"That's just it, Jacob. I know, without a shadow of a doubt, which bastard it is that killed that elephant." This kid was not about to send him away with the same rehearsed speech he gave at every visit.

"Do you?"

"I do." Muldoon felt a rush of anger run down his spine as he spoke the name. "Roland Tembo."

Detective Sawyer coughed nervously and straightened in his seat, an act that did not go unnoticed by Robert who watched the young man suspiciously. Muldoon knew instinctively that something was wrong. He also knew from the way Sawyer reacted, that the officer was familiar with Tembo.

"You know of him, do you?" Robert questioned.

"Roland Tembo?" Sawyer scoffed, in mock surprise. "Of course. Do you mean to tell me that you believe Tembo's the poacher? The man is an upstanding citizen of Mombassa. He also has millions." Sawyer spoke the word millions with relish. "What would he want with a dead elephant from Nairobi?"

"Do you know how much ivory goes for on the black market, Detective Sawyer?"

Sawyer thought for a moment. "I'm not sure" he finally said. "Probably a fair amount".

"So, let me ask you this," Muldoon continued, having a _fair amount_ of certainty Sawyer knew the exact price of ivory, "how do you think he made his millions? How did his father and grandfather make their money?"

Sawyer smiled and said smartly "stocks and bonds"?

Muldoon welled up with anger at the detective. "Hardly," he said, holding back more harsh words.

Detective Sawyer only sat there with a tiny smirk on his face that said more than words ever could, and at once, Robert knew...

"He's got you doesn't he? He's got you on his payroll along with most, if not all of your damn department, am I right? And if he's smart, Tembo's also gotten to any person that could help _me_ get to _him_." Taking his anger out on the closest objects, Muldoon cleared Sawyer's desk with one swipe of his muscular arm, and, placing both hands on the bare desk, leaned over to meet Jacob Sawyer, face to face. If there was one unforgivable sin Robert Muldoon recognized, it was dishonor. "I thought you of all people, someone sworn to serve and protect, couldn't have sunk so low. I would as soon kill myself than give in to a bribe and be paid to do someone's dirty work for them. How can you call yourself a policeman?"

"Sir, is everything alright in here?" A young officer stood in the doorway, holding a stack of papers, obviously curious about what all the commotion was about. Muldoon did not move;, he didn't care what was thought of him at this point.

"Everything is fine, Michael. Thank you" Jacob said, with a hint of irritation. "Oh, and shut the door if you don't mind. We do need some privacy."

"Okay then. Sorry to interrupt." The officer scurried away to file his mountain of papers.

Alone again, it was Sawyer's turn to rage. Flying out of his seat as soon as the door clicked close, he challenged Muldoon's stare. "How dare you accuse me of doing anything but what I swore to do? And in front of my co-workers? I have never done any act which didn't benefit this department. I may _choose_ who I serve and protect, and they may not be who you believe I should, but I do serve and protect. So, if you are going to do nothing but stand here and charge me with dishonest dealings then I suggest you kindly leave before I have you escorted out."

"And besides, where do you think it would get you in this world to look after the weak and 'innocent'. They have nothing to give therefore you have nothing to gain from it. Look at yourself; you're a poor game warden whose best friend is a dead elephant!"

"At least I can hold my head high and look those 'weak and innocents' in the eye everyday. If I had my choice between money and my dignity… well that's really no choice at all for me. I don't need money; I was trained to live off the land if I have toneed, but I couldn't live with myself without dignity." Muldoon headed towards the door, opened it and turned once more to look at Sawyer. "And as for my friends, I would rather be chums with a dead elephant than a jackass like you any day."

And he left, leaving Detective Sawyer with his mouth hanging open. Robert always loved to leave the 'how dare you say that' look on an opponent's face. But even that couldn't make up for what happened in there. Muldoon sighed dishearten, disheartened.

On leaving the building, he could not bring himself to look any other officers in the eye. He was not usually an emotional man, but the thought of being in the same room as those whose loyalty could be bought with a few simple dollars made him miserable: it made him angry. He, being a man of few possessions, did have one which he prized above all else: HONOR.

Muldoon had a reputation for always doing the right thing, respecting others, and having strict principles of life which he abided by. His father lived the same way, and was respected even in death by those who knew him best.

If you do not stand for something you believe in, then you will fall for anything that comes your way. This was what happened today. The men who swore to protect citizens had no personal codes, no 'moral fiber', and so it was easy for someone to walk in and teach them his own. And in this case, it was a man with a very warped sense of honor and integrity.

Robert Muldoon had no choice. He had to take the problem into his own hands. Tembo had to be caught; to be punished for his deeds. How Muldoon was going to accomplish this was undecided. He knew one thing for sure: it was not going to be easy.

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Detective Jacob Sawyer was shocked. How could that lowlife of a man treat him like that? No matter, he thought bringing himself, Robert Muldoon was not going to get his way.

"Michael!" Sawyer called through the open doorway. Sitting at a desk directly in front of his office sat the young man who earlier came to ask if anything was the matter.

The brown haired, small stature man jumped up and hurried to his boss. "You called, sir?" His voice was shaky but sounded as if he were trying to hide that fact. Sawyer was a very important man to Michael O'Neil, who aspired to be like the detectivehim someday. He looked up to Sawyer and became more like his assistant, even though O'Neil was a trained officer.

"O'Neil, clean this up." Sawyer said, rather casually, referring to the mess of papers and other office supplies strewn on the floor. He spoke so casually, in fact, that anyone would assume it happens all the time.

"What did Mr. Muldoon want this time? Was if about his preserve again?"

"Yes, in fact it was. He seems to be under the impression that we care" Sawyer said, amusedly. Michael thought it cruel to say but also thought it best not to let Sawyer know. After all, he was told once it was not his job to think.

Sawyer watched Michael for a moment, and then said "there are some items under that chair as well. Try not to miss any." Poor Michael never thought about the fact, but he was merely one more person Sawyer needed to step on to get wherever it was the Detective was going. Very soon, however, Michael O'Neil would have to come to terms with this and realize he was never going anywhere with Sawyer at the reigns. But, for a few moments at least, he thought no man was greater.

There was a loud buzzer which startled Michael enough to make him bang his head on the underside of the chair. Sawyer sighed and pushed the 'talk' button on the small white call box on his desk. "Yes Karen?" Why couldn't the woman just tell him what she wanted from the doorway? Her desk was right outside. 'Leave it my bloody secretary' the detective thought.

"You have a letter that just came. Would you like to me bring it to you now?" The bubbly voice said from outside and from the speaker at the same time.

"By all means, please do" Sawyer said sarcastically. He watched as the redhead beauty hurried in, carrying a small white envelope. "It's funny, I thought the mail already came today, but then this guy comes up to me and says it's a special delivery for you. He said it was from Mr. Tembo. And guess what? He brought flowers for me too. They're also from Mr. Tembo. I wonder how he knew pink roses were my favorite" Karen asked, not really expecting an answer. "Oh, hello" she said as something brushed across her foot.

Michael looked up from his cleaning and smiled. "Hello," he said; his cheeks red with embarrassment.

"That'll be all, Karen. Thank you." Sawyer twirled the envelope in his hands as he waited for the girl to leave.

"Okay, sure. But when you hear from Mr. Tembo again, tell him I said thanks so much for the flowers!" Karen bounced out the door and plopped down in her chair to admire her gift.

'_Tembo is a thorough man'_, Sawyer thought, '_most people wouldn't think to butter up the secretary too._ _All bases truly are covered_.' He amusedly watched Karen pet the flowers almost as if they were a puppy. "God knows, I didn't hire her for brains," he said aloud. "No matter, down to business."

Jacob Sawyer took a letter opener from his newly replaced supply holder on the desk and ripped the envelope open. He pulled out a thick stack of one hundred dollar bills, fanning them in the air. Michael, who Sawyer almost forgot about, unconsciously stared at the mountain of money which did not go without notice by Sawyer. "Like what you see O'Neil?"

"Oh um, sorry sir. I didn't mean to pry. Is that from Roland Tembo?" Michael asked, truthfully wanted to do nothing _but_ pry.

"As a matter of fact it is. I recently assisted him with a situation and he just so happens to be a very wealthy man."

"Sir, I…" Michael stammered as he stood up. He placed the last bit of papers and staples back on the desk. "I don't want to sound rude, but isn't that considered a bribe?"

Jacob smiled smugly. "I like to think of it as money well earned. I would've helped crush Robert Muldoon for nothing. Consider it like a bonus."

"That's illegal, sir" Michael was astounded that the man he looked up to was taking bribes and that he himself found the nerve to speak so sternly to his elder. "And besides, Robert Muldoon has done nothing but good for this area with his preserve. Why would we want to 'crush' him?"

"He's only a nuisance to me. I wouldn't give him a second thought really, but a powerful man wants him taken care of. I'm here to serve and so are the rest of these men. You are new here son, but you must know that to get to where I am, you cannot be completely honest or loyal, and certainly you have to consider changing where you stand on things. That's the way you do good business." Sawyer saw the look on his younger officer's eye and said, "I trust that you will have no problems fitting in with this organization and nothing I've told you today will leave this room. If you follow my rules, this can also be yours." Sawyer again waved the money in front of O'Neil.

Michael nodded in agreement but found it hard to look Sawyer in the eye. He wanted to be a policeman since childhood because they fought crime and promoted good, like an everyday superhero. He wanted to be a good guy, not a cheat. Could he be bought like his colleagues? Surely not.

He walked calmly out of the office and towards his desk. Sitting there thinking through what just happened, he suddenly felt a surge of sympathy for Robert Muldoon. All this time, Michael O'Neil thought he was working for the side of good. Now he realized he was working for whoever was the highest bidder. But what could a poor policeman like himself do to help? He certainly couldn't go to any law enforcement agency. From what he's heard about Roland Tembo, Michael knew every inch of ground would have been covered. The only other place to go was the fighting side. Perhaps he could be of some use to the Nairobi preserve in their quest to stop their problem. He knew one thing for sure;, their problem had almost nothing to do with poaching anymore: this was about honor, and what side of it you stood.

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A/N- Thanks for reading guys. Chapter 4 is on the way!


	4. The Thrill of the Hunt

**The Thrill of the Hunt**

"_There is no hunting like the hunting of man, and those who have hunted armed men long enough and liked it, never care for anything else thereafter." -Ernest Hemingway_

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Ajay sat at a table in the middle of a large outdoor cafe shaded by the umbrella canopy above, watching the crowd of tourists who were becoming all too frequent visitors to one of his favorite getaways. He sighed at the raucous created by the people as they chatted with each other about what sights the day was to bring them, what activities they wanted to participate in throughout their stay in Mombasa.

The smell of barbeque wafted through the smoky air as the fires were strengthened to continue roasting the feast of chicken tikka, or barbeque, a popular food at the restaurant. Waitresses were bringing out huge salads for their guests and refilling drinks here and there as the heat of the African sun began to bear down on them.

Ajay picked up some Mishkaki attached to a small skewer from his plate and absentmindedly tore away a piece of the barbequed beef. He nodded in thanks as a waitress poured more liquid into his glass.

It was a beautiful day in Mombasa, but Ajay was bored.

"Roland, what are we doing here?" he asked irritably. His question broke the silence that seemed to surround only their table.

Roland was calmly peering through his glasses which he had pulled from the pocket of his shirt. Holding the small spectacles towards the sky, Roland squinted as his eyes met the bright rays of the sun.

"What do you mean, Ajay?" He blew on the lenses with a sharp breath then, using the end of his shirt, began to clean them further. "Aren't you enjoying your day?"

"Not in the least." Ajay dropped the metal skewer into his plate, producing a high-pitched ringing.

Roland looked out into the crowd. "Neither am I, Ajay, neither am I."

Silence fell upon them once again.

In their younger years, never a day went by that an exciting occurrence did not happen. They were usually the ones to make their own adventures. Other occasions would present their own challenges, such as a safari with some egotistical millionaire hell-bent on showing off to his friends and family back home with a new trophy.

In these types of situations, Roland and Ajay would be hired to guide the man through the African bush so he could experience the joy of hunting the world's most sought after trophies. Always thinking he was better than the two young hunters, the rich man would never cease to amaze Ajay with his endless praises of the hunts he claimed to have been on in years gone by. But, with his bumbling nature and an embarrassingly low knowledge of how a gun works, the likelihood of his resume being as lengthy as he claimed it to be was unsurprisingly small.

Danger always lurked nearby during these times. The end result would inevitably the man wandering off into the bush without thinking of the consequences, forcing Ajay and Roland to come to the rescue at the first roar of a lion or cackle from a hyena.

Close calls were what life was made of in those days. Shooting a charging rhino at point-blank range, something most considered frightening, offered just the adrenaline rush needed to keep them satisfied. Hunting was not only a sport but a way of life.

But now, at their age, nothing exciting or challenging seemed to happen.

Ajay looked at his old friend. Roland was not acting like himself lately. His attitude, while still marked by the same arrogance and air of an English Gentleman of his generation, was dulled by thoughts of a certain subject Roland didn't care to discuss, but it weighed on his mind immensely.

"Retirement, Roland, is not for the faint of heart- not in our line of work. I see no reason for you to pursue the idea so strongly."

Roland's gaze met Ajay's. The man knew Roland better than he knew himself. "How did you know I was contemplating retirement?"

"You've not been yourself lately. That fire, while still present, has lowered in intensity. I can see it in your eyes. You're tired of this life, are you not? You've wasted your life, and now it's time to put away your gun; to put it on its rack and let it gather dust?"

Roland stopped cleaning his glasses, leaving them resting in his hands. A smile slowly came to his face. "I have no intentions of letting that gun collect dust."

"Well forget about the gun then. It has far too much life in it to turn old before its time."

Roland gathered what his friend was implying. "Now just what is that supposed to mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean, Roland. Look at yourself. You're bored out of your mind and turning into an old man right before my eyes. What happened to the Roland Tembo of only a year ago? Has he left us so quickly?"

"He has done no such thing. He's merely waiting for something worthwhile to bring him out of early retirement and back into the game. Seeing as how there is no prey that he has yet to conquer, he shall keep waiting."

"Waiting doesn't suit you, Roland. You're not the kind of man to wait for something, you go in search of it."

"But I will not search for something beneath me, and whatever treasures the forests and plains of this world holds has become beneath me. It seems nothing amuses me anymore." He held up his glasses once again to check that he had not missed anything. A familiar flash of khaki reflected in the lenses. Roland paused.

"Unless it comes searching for me," he said. His voice sounded like a predator stalking it's prey once again.

Ajay looked at Roland questioningly, but the hunter's was not paying him any mind. His questions were answered by a quick glance behind Tembo. Immediately Ajay became nervous. He hated confrontations. Roland always fought the battles. Ajay was only a backup player.

Roland heard the sound of the dry earth crunching beneath boots getting closer and closer until the sound ceased.

"Good afternoon Robert. I thought I smelled whiskey. I trust the drive from Nairobi was a pleasant one?"

"Very pleasant. There were more damn people on that train than I'm bloody well used to. Funny how the laughs of fifty tourists sound so similar to a hyena pack. But enough with the small talk; I've come to have a word with you, Tembo."

"You seem to have forgotten your manners at home, Robert. When speaking with superiors, one should always use the prefix Mr.. Sir would have been even better. However, let's not linger on formalities. If your mother never taught you manners, you'll never learn. Do have a seat. Allow me to get you a chair." Roland took his foot and kicked a chair out from under the table for Muldoon.

Roland spoke with an air of bemusement and haughtiness that made the anger boil up under Muldoon's skin, but Muldoon didn't come to bicker like a schoolboy. He came for answers.

"Don't mind if I do."

Muldoon made himself at home in the chair. He tossed his favorite hat on the back of Roland's chair and kicked his muddy boot clad feet up onto the table. His chair leaned back as he lounged, smirking at Tembo. A waitress walked up to take his order, but Muldoon waved her away with a polite smile.

"I'm sure you know why I'm here."

"I'm sure I don't, Robert, but now that you have so graced us..." Roland paused to pick out a clod of dirt that had fallen from the dripping boots into his plate. He flicked it away. "...with your presence, perhaps you could enlighten me."

"Well, if you're sure..." Muldoon reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out something small and shiny. He placed it in front of Tembo. "Look familiar to you, Roland?"

"Of course it does, Robert. It's a bullet. My God, man, are you losing your touch?" Roland chuckled and looked at Ajay who returned the gesture with a bemused smile. "I do hope you didn't travel all this way for me to tell you that."

"No. I know exactly what kind of bullet that is, and what gun it belongs to. Do you?" Muldoon's stare was icy cold and directed squarely in Roland's face. It was a good way to dismantle an enemy's confidence. Just by staring you could get certain people to spill their darkest secrets. Just by staring you could make them believe you knew everything about them. People did not like it. Robert once made a young man piss himself with only his eyes. It was a powerful weapon, but he was sure it would not break down all Tembo's walls.

Roland met Muldoon's gaze and his eyes were twinkling with joy. Tembo was enjoying himself. Robert posed a challenge to him, but Roland was sure he could best the warden. He loved the game. It brought back a little of the fire. "How about a drink, Robert? I'm sure you couldn't pass the offer up. What's your pleasure?" Roland called over the young waitress to the table. "Bring a bottle of scotch for my friend here, would you please? And keep them coming." The waitress nodded, looking confused, and walked away. Muldoon said nothing.

Tembo took a sip of water. "You do like whiskey, don't you Robert?." Muldoon continued to sit and watch Tembo, rocking the tilted chair he was sitting on slowly.

Not missing a beat, Roland picked up the bullet and twirled it around his fingers. "It's for big game hunting, no question Robert. Elephants would be my guess, and I am an exceptional guesser. I'd say a Nitro Express. .600 double barrel no doubt."

"You know the gun that uses it then?"

"Know it? I happen to have one myself, coincidentally of course."

"Of course."

"And why are you so curious? Granted it's no common gun. Not just any hunter carries them, but they're more abundant in this part of the world than anywhere else I'd wager."

"That bullet was found on my preserve not long ago. It was found very near the carcass of a freshly killed elephant. Now, as poaching hasn't been much of a problem lately, I'm curious to find out why, all of a sudden, someone would want to come along and kill that animal. Since ivory is not as valuable as it used to be, and it's an isolated incident, I have led myself to believe it wasn't the animal that whoever did this was after."

The waitress came back with Roland's requested full bottle of Scotch and set three glasses down for the men. Muldoon dropped his feet from the table. Opening the bottle, he poured the whiskey into the glasses. He offered Roland and Ajay a glass. "No thank you, Muldoon, it's too early...for me," Ajay said. Roland shook his head. "I'll stick with water. Now, are you going to keep us guessing?"

Muldoon took his glass and downed the drink in one shot, followed by the other two. "I came to see if you perhaps know something about it?"

"And why would I, Robert?"

"Why wouldn't you? You own a .600 Nitro. You said so yourself. I'm sure you wouldn't let that gun sit around. Most people keep them as collector's items. You're not most people."

"You're saying I had something to do with the poaching incident on your preserve?"

"I'm saying it's a rather strong coincidence finding that bullet. People don't just drop them. They're expensive. Expensive, that is, unless you have a large bank account." Muldoon raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Also, you're not very fond of me, Tembo. Hell, I'm pretty sure you hate me. It also pains me very little to say, I despise you as well."

"Well, now that you've so brilliantly summed up our relationship, why don't you come out and say exactly what it is you are thinking."

"You know very well what I'm saying. You're the poacher."

Roland's face tightened. His eyes had a deadly gleam to them softened only slightly with the thrill of the hunt. His voice turned serious. "Proceed cautiously, Robert. You are treading on very dangerous territory."

"You dislike being called what you are?" Muldoon smiled. He had hit Tembo below the belt. It felt good.

"I dislike being accused before proven guilty, Robert. I also despise that dreadful word."

"Well, as for being proven guilty, I'm working on it. But what have you got against that word?"

"It wrongly defines us." Ajay said.

"It's the connotation that comes with it. Very dishonorable business, Muldoon. You know that. You've shot animals many times before. They don't call you the Great White Hunter for anything, but are you considered a poacher? I think not. So, why am I?" Roland leaned back in his chair. "We are very different, you and I. I would never accuse you of being a drunken has-been who's too blind to see that the world is changing, if I weren't sure you were. You wear your character right on your sleeve. You're so transparent, it's laughable. And you have the bollocks between your legs to accuse me of being a...a poacher. " Tembo struggled slightly with the word. It had a bitter taste.

"Better being transparent than hiding from the world as you do behind your culture, poise, and fancy words. When it comes to me, people know what they're getting."

"That may be, Robert, but we do have something in common." Roland said. "We're both hunters."

"Yes, but with different prey." Muldoon grabbed his hat off the back of Roland's chair. "You, like a hyena, prey on the weak; those without a voice. I myself like to prey on those who go after the weak. For that reason, we shall remain at odds."

Roland got to his feet as well. He stood a head shorter than Muldoon. "I'm sorry we can't be friends, Robert. I'd be lying if I said you don't make a somewhat worthy opponent. I do hope we can do this again."

"Well, this has been less than fruitfull, but it's only the beginning. If you refuse to confess, which I thought you would, I'll have to resort to other means. I'll be in Mombasa for a few days on some...business. I'm sure I'll run into you again, soon."

Roland turned towards Muldoon. "Now what does Robert Muldoon have up his sleeve?"

Ajay chuckled. "A flask of Vodka, perhaps?" He exchanged a joking look with his friend.

Muldoon ignored the quip. "I'll get to the bottom of this, Tembo. Mark my words. You won't always have that cocky little grin on your face."

Roland watched as Muldoon began to march away. "I look forward to hearing from you, boy. In the meantime, I'll pick up your tab."

* * *

Author's Note: Sorry for the long wait for a short chapter everyone. Just want to say thank you to all who reviewed, even during my long time away. Thanks Sassy Lil Scorpio for our Tembo/Muldoon chats (along with all the other great JP chats). It helped me get back into this.


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